


Saving Mark

by kandacek (firefly63)



Category: Man from Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Plot/Plotless, Some Plot, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly63/pseuds/kandacek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plot What Plot. It isn't often Mark runs into trouble in his element, but when he does, Elizabeth is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Mark

**Author's Note:**

> The original start to this piece was written shortly after the episode with Mr. Schubert and his daughter aired in '78. I would have been 14 or 15. I guess it would have been described as a missing or *alternate* scene. The scene where Schubert's daughter visits Mark in the jail. I always thought it should have been Elizabeth. =) 
> 
> This little piece sat unfinished for 30+ years, until earlier this year, when the DVDs finally came available. I dusted it off and began to re-write it. I like to think I've come a long way as a writer since I was a teen. =)
> 
> I re-wrote the beginning and actually came up with something of a story though it's more of a PWP than an actual story. I have this thing for hurt/comfort (mostly physical hurt, I don't do emotional hurt that much). Other than the very beginning, this bears little resemblance to the original episode, so you can think of it as something "new".
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

* * *

 

Silently, Elizabeth fumed. This island was a parody of justice. It amazed her that there was anyone walking around on the streets. She'd been searching for Mark, who had missed his check in time by over an hour, when she had suddenly been arrested for allegedly walking into a restricted area. She could swear there had been no warning signs or fences to indicate that. The two officers had brought her here, to the town jail. Her protests of innocence fell on deaf ears.

The Constable had greeted her with a mournful apology but informed her that her "visitor" status would not garner any special consideration. She would have to face the charges of trespass.

Now he led her into a damp, dim cell room. She was surprised to see only two cells. She'd expected to see far more considering they seemed to arrest people on a whim -- or perhaps it was just tourists they treated this way.

"You should feel honored Missy. I'm giving you some company," the Constable said, unlocking one of the cells. Elizabeth glanced into the cell again and noticed a tall, dark-haired figure laying face down on the bunk. She barely contained a gasp of recognition.

As the Constable shoved her inside he spoke again, "You may not have company for long, however. It seems he fell ill shortly after we put him in there. Poor chap, keeps begging for water, but you see there is a limited supply of potable water on this island and we are under strict water rationing. I'm afraid he has had his ration for the day. Oh well." The Constable sighed, finished locking the door and turned to leave, but stopped.

"Oh yes, if you cause any trouble I will be obliged to discipline you." He indicated a fire-hose hanging on the wall across from their cell. "And I warn you, it is not at all pleasant." He chuckled and walked out taking the two guards with him.

Elizabeth stood silent, watching him leave. When she was sure he was gone she whirled and knelt beside the stricken man.

"Mark!"

Slowly the man's eyes opened. "Elizabeth," he wheezed, gasping for air.

Tears sprang to her eyes, knowing he was in pain and unable to do anything for him. Though he could pass for human, Mark was actually a very unique individual; a water-breathing man. Together they made up part of a scientific research team for the Foundation for Oceanic Research, a government agency doing classified marine research. Prior to meeting Mark, she had been working for the U.S. Navy, doing research with dolphins. Her specialty was in bio-physiology.

Mark had been found washed up on a beach after an unusually severe storm. It had been pure luck that the man who had accompanied her to the Navy reception that night was a general practice medical doctor. He'd received an emergency call about a man who seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Curiosity piqued, she'd gone with him to the hospital. Once there, she'd observed the man's strangely cyanotic skin and lack of perspiration, his webbed hands. After seeing the chest x-rays, she'd asked to scope his lungs, having guessed what he might be. It had been a wild hunch, but she'd been convinced she was right. Consequently, she'd managed to get the man rushed back to the ocean, where they'd put him face down in the water. She'd pushed him slowly around in a circle. After several tense moments and to her relief and the amazement of her companions, the man had revived.

From that moment on she had embarked on a new and wondrous research puzzle. It soon became apparent that her "subject" was suffering from amnesia, so she had christened him Mark Harris. Now, many months later, they were working together to unlock the mysteries of the ocean, much of which Mark instinctively knew. 

Elizabeth laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Mark, why are you here?"

"I was… investigating… some unusual… activity… in a cove… not far… from where I… came ashore. Two men… police… arrested me…. The constable… said I was… tres…passing into a… restricted… area. I… do not… know… if that… is true."

She nodded, not surprised by his answer. "How long have you been without water?" Worriedly listening to him struggle to breathe.

"Five… six hours."

Looking at his darkening bluish pallor, Elizabeth caught her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing he needed water soon. "I'm sorry, Mark. If I hadn't wanted you to check out the island neither of us would be here right now." Her throat constricted.

Slowly, Mark reached a hand up to her and she grasped it in both of hers, noticing that his fingers were already black from oxygen starvation.

"It was…not…your fault…Elizabeth. I would…not have…come…if I had…not… wanted…to."

"I know Mark, but I still feel responsible," she whispered, and started to release his hand. She stopped, taking a closer look.

"Mark, what happened to your hand? The web between your first and second fingers is torn."

"I… was… probing… a crevice. The… police… startled… me… and I… cut it… on the rocks… when… they grabbed my… arm."

"Oh, Mark. Is it painful?"

"I… do… not… feel… it… unless… I spread… my fingers."

"Will the webbing grow back together?"

"I…do…not… know." Mark gasped, his labored breathing becoming more intense.

"Hold on Mark, we'll get out of here somehow."

He tried to smile, but it became more of a grimace as he fought harder for breath. "Try," he offered almost silently, his eyes sliding closed.

She thought he was still conscious, if barely. Tears pricked her eyes as she watched him struggle. She brushed his hair away from his forehead tenderly.

"Hang on, Mark. We'll get out of here. I promise," she whispered.

A noise brought her head around. "Someone's coming."

Standing, she turned to face the outer door as it was unlocked. Two guards came in with someone between them. She bit back her surprise when she saw C.W., the Foundation's administrator. She remained silent as they put him in the next cell and waited impatiently for the guards to leave. When they were gone she leaned over Mark's cot and peered into the next cell.

"C.W.!  What are you doing in here?" 

"Elizabeth! Am I glad to see you!" C.W. said with genuine-sounding relief. "I was searching for you and Mark, when those two—two goons arrested me for trespassing. They said I was in a restricted area. I didn't see any signs."

"Neither did I," Elizabeth muttered.

"How did you end up in here?" C.W. asked.

"The same way. They didn't even give me a chance to explain or leave. Just arrested me and brought me here," she said, "Oh C.W., this is crazy! There's something off about that Constable."

"I agree," C.W. replied. "What's that noise?"

"That's Mark. They got him, too."

"Oh, no. How is he?"

"Not good. He needs water soon."

"We've got to get out of here, but how?" C.W. looked around hopelessly. 

Elizabeth remained silent, studying their confines. Her gaze landed on the fire hose in the corner.

"C.W., I have an idea. Just follow my lead. Okay?"

"I guess so. Why? What are you going to do?" C.W. answered doubtfully. 

Instead of answering him, Elizabeth began yelling and rattling the bars, making as much noise as she could. "LET US OUT OF HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO KEEP US! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT C.W."

"MY FAULT?" C.W. squawked in surprise. Hesitantly at first, C.W. took up the argument. Soon, he was giving as good as he got. He even started to curse and swear at her, and Elizabeth silently applauded him. The noise they were making penetrated Mark's stupor and he tried to sit up, but he was too weak.

Moments later the door to the cell room opened. The Constable and two guards rushed in. "Stop this ruckus at once!" he demanded.

Elizabeth ignored him and kept up her litany of invective and screaming, C.W. yelling right back. When words failed to stop the quarrel the Constable reached for the fire hose and turned its full blast on the prisoners.

The high pressure blast caught Elizabeth by surprise and toppled her onto the cot on top of Mark. Keeping up her shouts, she struggled to help Mark, who was attempting to drag himself off the bed, where he could get to the puddle of water forming on the floor. Just as she was becoming breathless herself, she saw Mark's color return to normal and she stopped yelling. A few moments later the water cut off.

"Hopefully that will have sufficiently cooled your tempers for awhile." The Constable scowled at the now wet and bedraggled-looking prisoners. 

Elizabeth glared at the man, hiding her awareness that Mark had reached the bars and had wrapped his hands around them. She saw his shoulder muscles tighten as he raised up slightly. Slowly, steadily, the sturdy bars began to bend as Mark applied his deceptive strength.

Mark's movements finally attracted the Constable's attention. His eyes widened, his jaw going slack in disbelief. He and the guards stood transfixed as Mark slid through the opening he'd made and straightened to his full height. Mark looked at the guards then the Constable, his expression implacable. The Constable gulped, slowly backing away. Mark took a step toward him. The Constable and guards turned tail and ran from the room and out of the jailhouse. Dismissing them, Mark turned back to the cell and helped Elizabeth through the gap in the bars. He moved to C.W.'s cell and knelt. Moment's later C.W. was crawling through his own opening in the bars. Mark was already panting slightly from his exertions.

Elizabeth knew they had to get him to the open water. The hose had only been a temporary measure. "Mark?"

"I will be all right, Elizabeth. We need to go, now, before the Constable regains his courage and returns with more men."

Needing no further encouragement, she and C.W. followed Mark quickly from the jailhouse. When Mark stumbled, she and C.W. wrapped their arms around his waist and helped rush him across the beach toward the ocean. They released him when they reached the edge of the surf. Mark kept going, wading out until he was able to dive under the waves.

Elizabeth kept one eye on the water while she and C.W. looked around nervously. They expected pursuit at any moment, but so far the beach was quiet. A hundred yards down the coast, some of the island children played in the surf.

Minutes later Mark emerged from the water and stood facing them.

"Mark, are you all right?" Elizabeth didn't try to hide her concern.

"Yes Elizabeth."

"What do you have there?" C.W. asked.

Mark held up a handful of dark green plant material. "Kelp. It will help with my hand." He took one of the long blades and handed the rest to Elizabeth. "I will meet you at the Cetacean."

"Are you sure Mark? Your hand won't cause any problems?" As she asked, Mark was wrapping the single blade around his injured hand.

"It will slow me a little, but I am sure Elizabeth. There is something I wish to investigate before I return to the submersible."

"Investigate?" Elizabeth asked in concern.

"I recall seeing some strange behavior by a school of sharks. I wish to have a closer look."

Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. He was a full-grown man, at ease with the sea and its creatures; a sea-creature himself. Why then was she so uneasy about him going off on his own into the ocean? She exhaled. She knew she couldn't change his mind about something like this. The sea was his home. Why shouldn't he investigate it?

"All right, Mark," she answered, reluctantly. "Be careful."

Mark's almost smile appeared. "I will, Elizabeth.

"Don't you think it might be better if you came with us?" C.W. asked. 

Mark shook his head once. "I can not afford the time out of the water. The temperature is too warm."

"What about the temperature?" C.W. questioned.

"The temperature here is much warmer than what Mark is used to. It draws the water out of us too, but Mark is affected much more quickly," she explained.

"Oh, of course."

"How long do you think it will take you to reach the sub, Mark?" Elizabeth asked.

"Perhaps an hour."

She nodded. Wordlessly Mark turned and slipped back into the sea. She and C.W. stood there watching the waves for several minutes. Finally, they turned away toward the direction of the boat that was waiting for them. They moved briskly, without appearing to rush. They knew they needed to get off the island before the Constable decided to arrest them again.

"Hey, you know he'll be all right," C.W. encouraged.

"I know C.W., but I can't help worrying about him."

"Well, we'll be back aboard the Cetacean in less than an hour, and he shouldn't be too far behind us."

"You're right, C.W." Elizabeth agreed. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Elizabeth hugged herself as she paced a small path behind Jomo's station, constantly checking the monitors for any sign of Mark. He'd passed his hour estimate over thirty minutes ago, and nearly fifty minutes ago some kind of underwater explosion had rocked the submersible. She had the bad feeling Mark was somehow involved.

"Mark, where are you," she murmured to herself, staring at the central monitor intently, but seeing nothing but ocean.

"Dr. Merrill, I'm picking something up. It just came on the scope," Jane, the communications tech said.

Elizabeth's gaze flew to the scope in front of her, and to her relief there was a red blip. Mark! Her brow furrowed. Something was wrong. The blip showed slow and erratic movement.

"We're getting an audible now Dr. Merrill. Very weak," Jane said.

"Let me hear it," she ordered. A moment later, Mark's voice came faintly through the speakers.

"Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Mark, barely."

"I am making my way toward you. Are you able to move in my direction?"

Elizabeth glanced at Jomo and Chuey. They nodded. She gave the go ahead to set course.

"Yes, Mark. We should rendezvous with you in a few minutes."

"Good."

"Mark? What's wrong?"

She got no answer.

"Jomo, ahead slow," she directed, wondering what in the world Mark had gotten into and trying to keep her panic at bay.

"Yes ma'am." The navigator replied.

One of the technicians pointed to the view port. "Dr. Merrill!  Look!" 

Elizabeth stared at the view on the monitor, eyes widening in horror. Mark swam toward them, his normally graceful dolphin-like movement erratic and off balance with one arm hanging useless. As he got nearer, it became apparent the arm wasn't his only injury. His legs were badly lacerated and one foot appeared mangled. There were gashes over his shoulders and torso as well.

"My God, how can he swim?" C.W. exclaimed, putting voice to Elizabeth's own concerns.

"Quickly, activate the hatch!" Elizabeth ordered, eyes glued to the monitor. Tense moments passed as Mark struggled toward them.

"He's in!" the tech monitoring the undersea hatch shouted.

"Jomo, get us out of here! Set course for home, max speed!" Elizabeth directed, running aft to the airlock.

"Reverse, full. Engaged," Jomo responded promptly. The ship was buffeted briefly by aftershocks of the earlier explosion, but Jomo and Chuey did an excellent job of navigating the turbulence.

Two crew members were already at the airlock, one emptying the water from the lock, the other standing ready to open the door. Elizabeth barely acknowledged C.W.'s presence next to her as she waited anxiously. She could see Mark floating half conscious in the water and unable to stand when he lost its buoyancy. Finally the airlock was opened and she rushed to his side.

"Mark!" A tiny movement of his head was the only indication she had that he'd heard her. She motioned to the two waiting crewmen. They squeezed into the tight space. Forming a cradle with their arms they lifted Mark as carefully and gently as possible and carried him to sickbay. Elizabeth followed close on their heels.

Once in sickbay, the crewman started to place Mark on one of the beds.

A raspy "No" stopped them.

"Mark?" she inquired anxiously.

"Water..." came the barely audible reply.

"He needs the water tank. Let's get him to the bio lab," she ordered.

The crewman carried Mark through the next hatch into the lab sphere and over to the large glass tank he used on occasion when he couldn't go into the sea.

"Okay, gently now, lower him in," Elizabeth directed quietly, watching while the crewmen carefully lowered Mark into the tank. He turned to his less damaged side as they released him. Once he was safely submerged, she dismissed them with a quiet thanks.

She moved nearer to the tank, her gaze fastened on Mark. He lay unmoving now, eyes closed. She could never tell if he was asleep or simply meditating when he was so still. She began a slow circuit of the tank, making a thorough visual examination of him. The more injuries she noted, the more worried she became.

Gashes deeply scored his shoulders, arms, and torso. His legs, from thighs to feet were lacerated so badly that she could swear she saw the white gleam of bone along his shins. The skin of his right foot was flayed almost to the ankle, the tendons exposed. Even his hands hadn't escaped injury. She could see torn edges of webbing between his fingers. His left arm lay at an awkward angle across his body and bulged oddly at the shoulder and upper arm. She suspected a dislocated shoulder and broken humerus. She shuddered to think what Mark could have tangled with to have the power to break his bones, and wondered how she was going to set them. And on top of all that, strange red rings covered his entire body.

"Elizabeth, do you think he'll be okay?" C.W. asked quietly.

Elizabeth had forgotten C.W.'s presence. Briefly tearing her gaze from Mark, she glanced at him. "I don't know. Without doing a physical exam and taking some x-rays, I have no way of knowing how badly he may be hurt internally. Visually, as bad as he looks, none of his injuries appear life-threatening."

C.W. nodded, also staring into the tank. "What are those rings? It looks like he was attacked by suction cups with teeth."

Elizabeth started, eyes widening. She bent to take a closer look at the rings through the glass.

"Suction cups with teeth," she muttered. "That's exactly what they are."

"You've got something?" C.W. asked.

"Squid! Mark must have been attacked by squid."

"I thought squid were small and shy?"

She nodded. "Most are, but there has been recent scientific evidence to suggest that the giant squid does exist, and isn't just a fishermen's legend. And squid do have hundreds of suction-cup-like nodules ringed with tiny teeth that they use for grabbing and gripping their prey."

"That just gives me the willies." C.W. shuddered.

Elizabeth smiled slightly in amusement, silently agreeing that the thought of 'killer' squid gave her the 'willies', too.

"Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get for you?"

"No, C.W., thank you," she said, turning her focus back to the tank and its occupant. "About all I can do for him at the moment is monitor him, and hope his condition doesn't get any worse. I don't have the equipment here to do much more than a cursory physical exam."

"All right, Elizabeth. If you think of anything I can do, just let me know," C.W. said.

"Oh, there is something, C.W."

"Name it."

"Contact Admiral Pierce and tell him I'm going to need a surgical suite and the best orthopedic surgical team he has with clearance. Preferably they'll have experience with marine mammals."

"You got it." Before turning to leave, C.W. peered down through the water at Mark. "I hope you'll be okay, Mark," he said quietly.

They were both surprised when pain-glazed jewel-green eyes opened, stared at them for a long moment then closed again. She met C.W.'s gaze. Something loosened a little inside her.

C.W. turned away from the tank and met her gaze again. "Do you think he'll be able to tell us what happened?"

She shrugged. "We won't know until we can ask him, but questions will have to wait."

"You're right, of course. I'll go make that call."

"Thank you C.W." She smiled slightly, letting her eyes return to Mark. C.W. patted her shoulder then left.

Quietly moving closer to the tank, she leaned against the edge and stared down at Mark. Tears formed in her eyes. It made her heartsick to know he was hurt so badly and she could do little for him until they were back on land. She had to content herself with the fact that he appeared to be resting reasonably well, despite his injuries.

The water was getting murky, but most of the wounds seemed to have stopped bleeding. She would let him rest for a while before disturbing him. A tear slid off her cheek before she could stop it, and fell into the water forming gentle ripples where it had landed. She held her breath, hoping it hadn't been enough to rouse him.

After a moment, when Mark hadn't so much as twitched, she gave a silent 'thanks' and turned away. It would be a couple of hours before they reached the Foundation, but she needed to make preparations for transferring him from the Cetacean. She hoped to at least do a partial examination before they got home as well.

"Elizabeth?"

She whirled. Mark was watching her, his normally vibrant green eyes clouded. He hadn't moved. "Mark?"

When he didn't speak right away, she wondered if he was actually conscious. Finally, with effort, he asked, "Do you still have the seaweed I gave you before we left the beach?"

"Yes, it's in the specimen tank over there." She indicated one of the small tanks on a lab table.

"I need it."

She nodded and retrieved the brownish-green vegetation.

"There is only enough to wrap my foot. I will need more."

"I understand Mark. Are you strong enough to be out of the water for a little while? I'd really like to do a more complete examination first."

Mark didn't answer for several seconds. His focus seemed to have turned inward. Finally, he said, "For you, Elizabeth, I can manage."

She smiled, but she was worried. Mark's reluctance to leave the water was just another indication of how hurt he was. She put the kelp back in the specimen tank, then quickly rounded up the two crewmen who had helped earlier. A gurney was brought in and positioned near the tank. Mark struggled to sit up and she stood back while the crewmen lifted him from the tank. Tight-lipped, Mark barely made a sound, but his complexion had gone gray by the time they gently lowered him to the gurney.

"I'm sorry, Mark," she whispered, touching his good shoulder.

Mark opened his eyes and looked up at her. He was gasping slightly, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smile.

"I'll be as quick as I can," she said, already placing her stethoscope in her ears.

He gave her a barely perceptible nod, closing his eyes again.

As she worked she kept an ear on his breathing. The minute it became labored she'd have him returned to the tank. The gashes were all superficial. The lacerations on his legs were deeper. Some might require stitches but none were deep enough to have damaged muscle or ligaments. The shin bone of his left leg was exposed at the thinnest place, but nothing else. His foot, miraculously, was not as damaged as she feared.

Cradling the foot behind the ankle she asked, "Mark, can you flex your toes? Your foot?"

All five toes moved freely. The foot flexed up and down and side to side.

"Any sharp tearing or shooting pain when you move them?"

"No."

"Good." That meant there was likely no tendon damage thankfully.

"The seaweed you gave me. It has an analgesic effect doesn't it? It helps numb pain?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth nodded to herself.

"It also aids healing open wounds."

 That explained why he wanted it wrapped around his foot. She made a mental note to have one of the divers gather a bunch of kelp as soon as they were home.

Mark's respiration had increased, but was not labored--yet. She turned her attention to the shoulder. She wanted to ask him what had happened out there, but restrained herself. She wouldn't force him to hold a conversation while he barely had enough energy to deal with the pain while out of the water.

Carefully she palpated the shoulder, wincing when Mark moaned and began panting through gritted teeth. "I know, Mark. I know. I'm sorry. Shoulder dislocations are excruciatingly painful. Yours is compounded by the fact your humerus, the upper arm bone, is broken as well." She paused while she gently felt around the area of the break. The break was high up on the bone. "Normally, I would get x-rays before reducing a dislocation, but since we're two hours from home I don't think we should wait. The risk of permanent damage is actually greater if we wait than if I do it now."

"Do it, Elizabeth."

She nodded, though his eyes were still closed. "All right, Mark. I have to warn you, the break in your arm is going to make this procedure even more painful. If you feel like you're going to pass out, don't fight it. It may actually help if you're unconscious. If I could, I would give you something to knock you out."

He indicated his understanding. She motioned to the crewmen to take hold of Mark's other arm and legs. Mark tensed at their touch.

"Try to relax, Mark. The tenser you are the more difficult this will be. Allen and John are just going to help hold you steady." She waited. Finally, she felt a slight easing of his muscles. Not letting herself hesitate, she grabbed the injured arm in both hands and pulled out and forward with all her strength. Mark screamed. Tears flooded her eyes but she kept pulling. With a faint pop the ball slid back into its socket. She immediately released the pressure and eased the arm back to the gurney. Mark was completely limp, unconscious.

Ignoring the tears coursing down her cheeks, she reached out a shaky hand to brush a fingertip over Mark's face, cupping his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Mark," she whispered. With a soft sigh she straightened, glancing at Allen and John. They silently released their grip and stood back. Mark's breathing was just beginning the labored wheeze of insufficient air. It would get progressively worse the longer he was deprived, but there was one thing she wanted--needed--to do before they returned him to his tank.

She retrieved the kelp blades from the specimen tank. Prompted by some instinct, she layered the small blades over the worst of his foot, then took the longest blade and wrapped the whole appendage. She secured the end by tucking it under and over the wrapping. Once done, she nodded to her assistants. They stepped forward, carefully picked up Mark and gently lowered him back into the water. Elizabeth slipped a hand into the water, gingerly checking the damaged shoulder and inspecting the wrapped foot. All seemed in order. Giving a mental sigh, she withdrew and looked up. "Thank you Allen, John."

"You're welcome Dr. Merrill. Just let us know if you need anything else," Allen replied for both of them.

"I will. Thanks."

As the two men left she turned her focus back to Mark. The faint, grayish-blue pallor of his extremities had already disappeared, and he seemed to be resting better than before. She assumed he was still passed out, but she wasn't sure. Satisfied that she'd done all she could for him for the time being, Elizabeth returned to making preparations for their arrival.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Slowly, Mark's eyes opened. Elizabeth leaned forward on her high stool, smiling. "Mark." He looked around him, making note of the fiberglass cast encasing his arm, the straps holding that same arm immobilized across his chest, the kelp wrapped around his legs, other arm, and hands, the special boot that immobilized his foot, and finally the bed of kelp he was resting on in the shallow tank. A couple of large aerators bubbled quietly in the corners at his feet. He turned a bemused gaze to her, his bright green eyes confused.

"You're at the Naval Undersea Center. We brought you here directly from the Cetacean. A special team of doctors operated on your shoulder and set your arm. The water-proof cast is made from the same material they use for making personal pleasure boats. The doctors expect the arm to heal completely, meaning you should have complete mobility with no lingering problems. The cuts and abrasions were relatively minor, none required stitches. By a stroke of luck, only two tendons in your foot required surgery. One was sliced but not severed, the other only nicked. The boot is to prevent excess strain on the tendons while they heal. The surgeon even managed to suture together the webs on your hands. He expects them to heal fine."

Mark blinked. After a moment he took another look around the tank he was in. It was shallower and narrower than he was used to. Less than three feet high, and only a few inches wider than the width of his shoulders. The kelp bed took up almost six inches, and the water level barely covered him. If he moved much, the water would slosh over the sides. Having that little water volume for a being his size necessitated the aerators.

"This is only temporary, Mark. We needed to keep you as still as possible while you recovered from the anesthesia, and be able to monitor you closely for the next few hours to be sure you have no complications. In a little while, we'll move you to a larger aquarium. Tomorrow, if everything still looks good, they'll let you use one of the pools. As soon as the doctors are sure that shoulder will stay immobilized with your movements, you can return to the Foundation."

Mark didn't say anything, but the faintest upturn at the corners of his mouth told Elizabeth he was pleased.

"How is the pain? Is the kelp helping?"

A long moment later he replied, "Manageable. Yes."

"Good. Let me know if we need to do something else for you."

He gave a slight nod, closing his eyes.

A tap on the door followed by it opening, made Elizabeth grin. "Come in C.W. He's awake."

"Great!" he called, quickly moving to the other side of Mark's tank. Mark was now watching him.

"Hi Mark," C.W. greeted. "How are you feeling?"

It was a moment before Mark said, "I think the response you are expecting is 'better'."

"And are you?" C.W. sincerely wondered.

Mark smiled faintly. "Yes."

"Good! I don't mind telling you, Mark, you had us all worried."

"That was not my intention."

Elizabeth studied Mark for a moment. He seemed tired but alert and recovering quickly from the grogginess of anesthesia. "Mark, do you feel up to answering some questions?"

Mark turned his gaze to her. "You wish to know what happened?"

She nodded. "When we felt that underwater explosion, and you were a half hour late making your rendezvous with us. We--I thought…"

"I am sorry, Elizabeth. I ran into something unexpected."

"What? What was out there, Mark?" she asked worriedly.

Mark blinked once, obviously gathering his thoughts. "It was some kind of trap, close to that area of the beach the Constable accused us of trespassing."

"Trap? What kind of trap?" C.W. asked.

"I think it was meant to trap large sea creatures. A high-pitched signal paralyzed me for a moment. When I managed to fight off the effects I was surrounded by a school of sharks."

"Sharks?" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Their behavior was very odd. They only circled. The signal somehow controlled them."

Puzzled, she asked, "Do you have any idea why they were being controlled?"

"There were caves in the rocks. One of them had a metal gate blocking it. I think the sharks were meant to keep whatever triggered the signal from getting away."

"Were they what did this to you?"

"No. I swam above and over them and got away. They did not break their circling pattern. I hid amongst the kelp and watched them. That's when I saw four divers approach carrying a net."

Frowning with concern, Elizabeth exchanged a glance with C.W. She did not like the sound of that. Had they been after any sea creature large enough to trip the signal or had they been after Mark? That was a hidden fear she harbored, that someone or some entity with less altruistic ideals would discover Mark and try to capture him for their own purposes.

"What happened then?"

"They seemed confused when there was nothing for them to capture. They looked around for a little while, and then returned to the gated cave. After they were gone, the signal stopped. The sharks were initially disoriented and then swam off."

"Let me guess. You went to check out the cave," Elizabeth said letting her mouth curve into a smile. As much as it worried her, she knew curiosity was part of Mark's nature.

He gave her a quizzical head tilt, and answered, "Yes. I had to know what they were doing, Elizabeth."

Still smiling, she nodded. "I know. Go on."

Before he continued he shut his eyes, his mouth tightened into a thin line. Elizabeth watched closely, worriedly. The tiniest tremor went through his lean frame.

"What is it Mark? Do you need to stop for a while?"

 Mark shook his head and opened his eyes. "I circled around the kelp beds and came at the caves from the shore side," he resumed his tale. Elizabeth had to trust that he knew his own limits and would stop when he needed to.

"The signal did not start again and I was able to investigate. It was not an underwater cave, but a series of tunnels and caverns with an underwater entrance. Many of the rooms were filled with what you call oil drums. There was also a strange type of laboratory."

"It wasn't our friend Mr. Schubert, by chance?" C.W. asked.

Mark almost smiled. "No."

"What kind of laboratory, Mark?" Elizabeth questioned.

"They were mixing a tarry substance with chemicals and heating it to make some kind of white powder."

Elizabeth exchanged a wide-eyed glance with C.W.

"What is it Elizabeth? What were they making?" Mark asked.

A shiver of unease raced down her spine. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It sounds like you discovered a heroin lab."

Mark's focus turned inward for a moment, his brows drawing down in thought. "Heroin? That is an illegal drug, is it not?"

"Yes. It's a very bad, highly addictive drug."

"That is one aspect of your world that I doubt I will ever understand," Mark said with honest dismay.

"I don't really understand it either," she agreed. "So you found a drug lab, then what happened?" She was surprised when Mark's expression turned angry.

"There was another laboratory. Several sharks and dolphins were being held in large tanks. They were being used for experiments. I believe the sharks were being trained like those that had responded to the signal. The dolphins were being trained to carry things. They would take them to waiting ships or to another section of the island coastline."

"Clever. No one would ever think of dolphins being used to carry heroin. The Navy has been working with dolphins for the past few years, hoping to train them to help with mine detection and underwater rescue."

"I do not think the Navy uses electrical shock to train them," Mark said grimly.

"No, of course not!" She was appalled at the thought, and realized that was the method used on the animals Mark had found. "I'm sorry Mark."

"You are not the one to do these things, Elizabeth." Mark paused. "I found and destroyed the mechanism that created the signal. In the process I discovered the controls to open the sea access doors and released the animals. Then I shorted the electrical equipment and waited until I was sure it could not be stopped before I escaped through the dolphins' holding area."

"But…?" Elizabeth began in confusion. How had he gotten hurt?

"When I emerged from the cave a giant squid caught me by surprise."

She glanced at C.W., her conjecture had been right.

Mark blinked once, then continued, "It attacked before I was aware of its presence. Most of my injuries came from its beak as I tried to break its grip. It took all of my strength to keep it from getting a tentacle wrapped around my neck. But once it gained a secure hold around my arm, the fight was all but over."

"But you managed to get away from it," Elizabeth said.

"No, Elizabeth," Mark denied. "If the dolphins had not returned and attacked the squid, forcing it to release me in order to protect itself, I am not sure I would have gotten free."

"My God," she whispered.

"How big was this giant squid, Mark?" C.W. asked curiously. "Until Elizabeth told me about them, I thought giant squid were just something out of myth."

"Giant squid are real, C.W. They have been known to attack whales and sea-going vessels. The one that attacked me was relatively small, perhaps twenty feet."

"Oh."

Elizabeth grinned. She couldn't help it. C.W.'s expression reminded her of a little boy who hadn't gotten the answer he'd hoped for.

"Is the squid what got your foot, too?"

"That was from a shark."

"What?" C.W. exclaimed.

Elizabeth swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Before or after the squid attack?"

"After."

She blinked back moisture, silently sending up a prayer of gratitude. "I'd say you were lucky it only got that close once."

"I had some help."

"Who?" She was surprised.

"Not who, Elizabeth. What. The dolphins helped me again. They hate sharks as much as they hate squid."

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling.

"Incredible," C.W. commented. "Maybe we should start recruiting dolphins to work with you Mark."

"I do not think they would be interested, C.W."

C.W. shrugged.

Noting the fatigue in Mark's face, Elizabeth said, "Thank you, Mark. Rest, now. We'll be back to check on you in a little while. Okay?"

Mark nodded, closing his eyes.

She and C.W. watched him for a moment. A small smile touched her lips as she gazed down at Mark's sleeping form. Finally, C.W. put a hand on her back and gently ushered her toward the door. Taking one more look back at Mark's resting form, she turned out the light and left.

Out in the hall Elizabeth leaned against the wall and let out a long, tired breath. This had been the longest, hardest day of her life.

"God, C.W. We might have lost him today." She fought back the constriction in her throat. "Every time he goes off that scope, I have to fight a fear that I'll never see him again, either because he doesn't want to come back or because he's had some kind of accident. We'd never know!"

C.W. placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, he'll always _want_ to come back. If there ever is a time when he doesn't come back it will be because he can't. I think you know that."

Taking a shaky breath, trying to regain control of her emotions, she nodded. "I know you're right, C.W. But I can't help worrying about him. Maybe too much. Every time he risks himself in some way or something happens to him, a little piece of me starts screaming. He's _special_ C.W. Do you know the kind of tragedy to the world it would be if we lost him? It scares me to death that something horrible might happen to him out there, especially by the hand of some ignorant human being's avarice and folly!"

"I know, Elizabeth. It scares me, too," C.W. agreed quietly. "But he's a living, breathing, thinking being. We can't keep him in a cage like some animal for his own protection."

Elizabeth shuddered at the mere thought. "I know, C.W., and I'd kill anyone myself who tried to do that to him. No, the only thing we can do is what we've always done. Help him to live in our world, guide him, teach him what he wants to learn from us, and most of all--trust him."

"Yes," C.W. agreed.

Elizabeth reminded herself that it was Mark's curiosity and quest for knowledge concerning her world that kept him with her, and until that curiosity was satisfied, he would remain. And as long as he remained, she would always worry about him. She trusted Mark to know how to take care of himself in his underwater world and with a little help from her and his friends at the Foundation, he was rapidly learning how to take care of himself in hers. That's all that really mattered.

Content in the knowledge that Mark was safe and recovering, she relaxed and smiled brightly at C.W. "C'mon, I could use a cup of coffee," she said, pushing herself away from the wall and heading for the nearest coffee spot. C.W. nodded in agreement and walked beside her.

\- end -


End file.
